The art of Love
by Allieturtle222
Summary: "Us Puckermans, we're not much of talkers, are we? We're doers, Noah, do you know what you do best?" "Mess things up?" "You're an artist Noah, and Kurt's your muse."


**Random thing I came up with. I was bored and just stared writing. I hope you like it. **

"You're acting like an idiot." Sarah Puckerman wasn't stupid, though Puck seemed to think that just because she was young, she was. But she wasn't. In her short, thirteen-almost-fourteen years on this planet she's seen a lot. She's seen life taken away and life given back, a father who didn't love them enough to stay, her brother and mom struggle to stay afloat. So Sarah wasn't stupid, but Puck sure was.

"Go away Sarah," Puck growled, his voice muffled from being under all the blankets. Sarah rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, taking long strides over to where her brother was sulking on his bed, trying not to fall over all the junk on his floor. She yanked the covers from his face.

"You look like an idiot too," Sarah said, rolling her eyes. Puck frowned up at her, pushed her back, and brought the blankets over his head again.

A muffled, "Go away," was heard. Sarah shook her head and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm not going any where Noah, not until you tell me what happened." She picked at his blanket, waiting for him to reply. Puck stayed silent under his blankets, the cotton acting as a prison, keeping him from talking. Sarah rolled her brown eyes. "Is this about Kurt?"

Puck didn't answer, but his jerk told her she hit the mark. "Did you guys have another fight?" Still no answer, Sarah was getting annoyed now. "Honestly, Noah, what did you do this time?"

"What makes you think _I_ did something?" Sarah shook her head, her brown curls flying. She nudged him lightly.

"Because I know you so well. Now what did you do?" She kept her tone neutral, hoping he would speak to her. Puck rolled onto his back and pulled the covers down a little, staring at the ceiling.

"We got into a fight," He said after a while of silence. "A big one. He doesn't think I love him. He thinks it was all a lie."

Sarah frowned. "Why in the world would he think that?" She asked. Sarah liked Kurt, and her and her mom had been a few of the first to know about the relationship, but one thing had been obvious since even before Puck had told her Kurt was his boyfriend, Puck cared about him. Like a lot.

Puck sighed and seemed ashamed. "I may have told him that."

"Like I said, Noah you're an idiot." Puck let out a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I know," He groaned. Sarah shook her head.

"What was the fight even about?" Sarah had to ask. Puck shook his head, but spoke anyways. He seemed to be conflicting with himself.

"At first it was a little argument over some cheerleaders that have been flirting with me. I'm not out at school yet, only to the glee club, and Kurt doesn't like that girls keep coming on to me. It's not like I can stop them, but anyways, It progressed. Before I even knew it we were full on yelling about college, about how I don't have any plans, and how he has too much planned. It seems like he has a whole life planned, one that doesn't include me, and that hurt. And I wanted him to hurt too. So I yelled, 'It doesn't matter about my plans. It's yours that's the problem. You're going somewhere and you're just expecting me to follow, well guess what, I don't care. Not about you, not about your dreams. I never did.' You should have saw his face, Sear, it was so pained, so hurt. After I felt happy, I wanted to hurt him and I did, but now I feel like an idiot. Turns out, the biggest one hurt out of it was me." Puck's tone was filled with regret and pain. Sarah shook her small head.

"Call him, apologize-"

"Sarah, I can't. I tried. He wont answer." Puck looked at her then. She saw his eyes were red and puffy, which shook her to her core, Puck never cried, at least not in front of her.

"Us Puckermans, we're not much of talkers, are we? We're doers, Noah, do you know what you do best?" Sarah was looking around the room, glancing at the pictures of cars, dragons, soldiers, boyish things that Puck's drawn over the years. Her eyes rested on the pictures in the corner, the paintings he recently finished. One was a unicorn, Brittany had asked him to paint it, and you couldn't say no to Brittany. The other was of Beth, for Shelby, she guessed. The details were amazing, his art skills were extraordinary.

"Mess things up?" Puck answered. Sarah growled at him, reaching down and shaking him.

"You're an artist Noah, and Kurt's your muse. Make him a piece of art, one that shows that you care." Puck glanced at her before shaking his head.

"I can't Sarah. I tried drawing earlier, drawing always clears my head, calms me down, but nothing came to me. I just sat there, staring at the paper, and all I saw was Kurt's face as I told him that everything was a lie." Sarah grabbed his wrist and yanked him up.

"Try Noah, try. Taking your time, drawing something, painting something, doing some kind of art, it shows you care. It's way better than some two minute long voice mail." Puck bit his lip, before sitting up. He gestured for her to hand him his sketch book. Sarah smiled, handing it to him and leaving him to his business, feeling like the brilliant little master mind she knew she was, saving her brother yet again. He so owed her for this.

?

Puck stared at the paper. Sarah had left a half an hour ago and so far all that was on the paper was eraser marks. He slammed his hands down, closing his eyes. Kurt's face stood in front of him. His body wasn't there, just his face. The way his mouth hung slightly open, his eyebrows scrunched together, water building up in his eyes. His cheeks were the bright red, a face pained. Puck opened his eyes, looking at the paper. Tears dripped down onto the it.

He ripped the page out, ripping it to shreds, chucking it across the room. He slammed his fist down onto his bed and sobbed. It was a snotty nosed, deep, baby-like sob. It came from deep in him, crawling through his heart and out his throat. The tears fell fast, landing in puddles on his hands. He seriously messed up.

Between his sobs Puck began to draw. He didn't know where the idea came from, he just drew, putting his heart on the paper.

?

"Kurt," His father called, worry sown into his voice, as he knocked on the teenager's door. Kurt droned him out, putting his headphones in, wishing the world would just go away. He had came home a couple hours ago, his face streaked with tears. His dad went into full protective mode, but Kurt told him to leave him alone.

"Kurt!" Kurt remained to ignore him, shaking his head. He turned the music up louder. His door handle jiggled and Kurt shook his head.

"Go away!" He screamed. His voice hitched and he sobbed again. The knob continued to jiggle. There was a click and the door opened. Puck came in, followed by Burt, but Kurt didn't care his father was there, it was Puck he was mad about. He ripped the headphones out, glaring at Puck. "What are you doing here?" He asked, his tone low. Kurt then turned his attention to his dad, ignoring whatever Puck was going to say. "Make him go away."

Burt opened his mouth but Puck cut in. "I need to talk to him, please sir." Puck licked his lips, and Kurt scolded, but waved his fingers at his dad. Burt looked a little relieved that he didn't have to be here when the two fought, but still a little iffy about leaving Kurt here alone. Burt left, closing the door behind him. "Kurt-"

"What do you want Noah?" Kurt asked, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"To talk to you. I want you to know that it wasn't true, I really do care about you." The bigger teen shifted between his two feet. Kurt shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"And why should I believe you?" He asked. Puck looked up at him, then down at a piece of paper Kurt didn't know he was holding.

"You don't have to. But I made this for you. Sarah told me that I should make something, to prove I cared, but now that I'm here it doesn't seem like enough." Puck took a few steps forward and Kurt jerked back. He froze before he put the paper at the end Kurt's bed and took steps back. Kurt leaned forward and grabbed the paper, looking at it.

Kurt stared in awe. Two hands, one with longer, delicate fingers, the other with bigger, calloused hands, probably from guitar, where twisting together. Flowers winded around their arms, sprouting around their finger tips. Held in their grasp was a heart. It wasn't a heart shaped heart, it was a real heart, and it seemed to be pulsing. Everything was black and white, shaded perfectly, everything but the heart, the splash of red was the only color. Kurt turned it over, a note was on the back.

"With our love, things grow: flowers, our hearts, color fills my life. I lied. I do love you. I always have. I just got scared. It feels like you're going down a road, somewhere I can't follow, a dream that's only made for one. But I want you to know, that I DO love you. And I'll never stop. Love Noah."

Kurt gulped, his heart beating rapidly, his body longing for Puck. He looked up but found he was alone, his bedroom door left open. He didn't even think, he got up and ran, the paper- the _tear streaked _paper clutched in his hand. He ran down the stairs, his father giving him a startled look when he tore into the living room. He was out the door in seconds, tearing down the driveway. Puck was in his truck, halfway down the road. Kurt screamed his name. He knew he probably wouldn't hear him, but he had to try.

By some miracle, he had. Or maybe he saw Kurt in his rear view mirror, running down the street like he was crazy_, _his face red and puffy, screaming his head off. Puck's truck pulled over and the tall teen slipped out, turning towards Kurt. Kurt reached him a few minutes later, panting so much that he couldn't catch his breath. Puck stared at him in concern.

"Kurt?" Kurt looked up, still breathing heavy.

"You didn't stay long enough for us to talk," He panted. Puck looked down.

"I hadn't really planned on anything to say. I thought my picture would do the talking." Puck avoided looking at Kurt's tear streaked face.

"But you didn't wait to hear what I would say." Kurt sounded hurt. Puck looked at him then.

"I didn't want to hear what you would say. I know the picture wasn't enough, but I had to try."

"You're an idiot," Kurt said, shaking his head. Puck sighed.

"So everyone says." He looked down, kicking his tire with his foot.

"This picture." Kurt thrust the page forward and Puck flinched. "It's _more _than enough, Noah. It's, It's amazing. The detail, the coloring, Noah you're really gifted. And I'm sorry if you assumed that I didn't want you with me in college, because that's not true. I want you there with me for the rest of my life, and I know it's scary, and I know I'm young. I probably shouldn't feel this way, but I do. But there's nothing I can do, unless you want to do this with me. If you want to go to New York with me. We're in this together, right? I need to know that you're going to try with me, that-" Kurt never got to finish.

Puck grabbed Kurt's shoulders, crashing his lips onto Kurt's. Kurt blinked in surprised before he melted into the kiss, his eyes shutting slowly. In those few seconds, Puck didn't care that he was in the middle of the road, that people from school were probably watching. All he cared was that it was Kurt, that he loved him.

They broke apart, leaning their foreheads together. "I love you, Kurt," Puck whispered.

"I love you too."

"New York," Puck whispered. "They have some art schools there, right?" Kurt smiled. He didn't answer, he just touched their lips together again.


End file.
